


Resist

by sodium_amytal



Category: Rush (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bloodthirst, M/M, Vampires, downer ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 14:00:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8404354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodium_amytal/pseuds/sodium_amytal
Summary: AU. 1975. John is a vampire. Alex is a human with the sweetest blood John has ever smelled.





	

John remembers the scent of him. A sweet, almost fluorescent burst of sensation in his nose, his brain, thirst raking his throat like fire. Just the quick flash of that scent in a gust of winter breeze made venom pool in John's mouth like saliva. If John hadn't been returning to his apartment after a hunt—a deer drained in the woods north of the city—he would have drained that beautiful boy next door instead.

Sometimes John thinks he can smell him through the walls, the faint scent of his blood wafting through the vents. Taunting him. Teasing him. Animal blood isn't an alternative; it's a substitution, like the sugar-free candies and sodas John tolerated in his past life. He's never fed off a human—murder is frowned upon, and it's not like there's a section of the Toronto Star for vampires seeking willing human subjects.

If John had known a scent like that existed, he would have gotten as far away from it as possible. But it lives next door, a blond siren tempting John to surrender the shreds of his humanity.

John fills his nose with the scent of burning candles, fruity fragrances that make his apartment smell like a potpourri fart. But he knows it's there, separated from him by only a few thin walls, and if he listens closely he can hear the steady, wet thump of a heartbeat.

* * *

The scent belongs to his new next-door neighbor Alex Lifeson, which John learns because occasionally the postman will leave packages on the doorstep of the wrong apartment. John just wordlessly delivers them next door, because the last thing he needs is to be face-to-face with Alex. Thinking of him as a person with a name instead of an anonymous bag of hideously appealing blood should help prevent John from any _lapses_ in judgment.

The sunlight makes John nauseous and feeling like his skin's sliding off his bones, so he only leaves the apartment under the cover of night. A decent-sized deer staves off most of his thirst. Sometimes he'll get lucky and nab a bear. John refuses to kill animals that aren't traditionally hunted by humans—squirrels, housepets, birds—so he doesn't have a lot of options for convenient prey.

He works a night shift as a gravedigger—superhuman strength comes in handy here—and the constant barrage of death he sees every day makes him vow never to be the reason for one of these graves.

Occasionally, Alex will enter or exit his apartment at the same time John does, and there's usually alcohol on his breath or pot saturating his clothes and hair. But none of it conceals the smell of his blood, and John's throat bursts into flames.

If John can just avoid Alex as much as possible, maybe they can coexist as neighbors. Alex probably suspects John is some sort of serial murderer—only leaves the house at night, doesn't socialize—so he might keep his distance.

* * *

Alex, it seems, wants to be _friends_ with John. He greets him in the rare, tempting occasions they pass each other on the second-floor walkway. He tries to start conversations, like John has anything compelling to say about the weather or the latest Maple Leafs game. Most of the time John just ignores him and quickens his step. When his thirst is sated and he can withstand the proximity of Alex's scent, John gives him short, uninterested answers, because if he acts like he can't hear him Alex might just assume he's deaf and find other ways to communicate with him.

Which he does, because John soon discovers a plastic container filled with cookies on his doorstep one morning. He's doubly insulted, because in his previous life diabetes prevented him from enjoying sweets, and now his vampirism renders all but blood tasteless. He might as well be eating dirt.

Of course, Alex couldn't possibly have known either of these things, but John's holding them against him anyway. He returns the empty container with a note inside that reads: _Oatmeal raisin cookies are the reason I have trust issues._

* * *

"Hey! Why don't you like me?"

John freezes, that maddening sweet scent saturating every particle of the cold dawn air as he unlocks his door. Alex hurries up the stairs, attempting to catch John before he disappears into the relative safety of his apartment.

"Everyone likes me," Alex says, sounding pitiful, his cheeks flushed red—from the cold or exertion John doesn't know. Blood swirls beneath his clear skin, and John tears his gaze away. The steady thump of Alex's heartbeat echoes in John's ears.

"Well, you can't say that anymore."

Alex pouts. His face is curiously beautiful, with a narrow chin and high cheekbones, heart-shaped lips, blue eyes brimming with pain. "Were the cookies really that bad?"

John shakes his head. "It's not you. It's me."

Alex winces. "It's okay. You don't have to spare my feelings. I'm trying too hard, right?"

"Asking someone why they don't like you doesn't typically change their opinion," John points out. He's stopped breathing already, but Alex's scent still lingers in the back of his throat.

"The cookies usually do. Everybody says I'm a great cook." Alex gasps as though realizing something. "Oh God, what if all my friends are lying to me?"

"I'm sure the cookies are fine. I didn't eat them," John confesses, because he doesn't like seeing Alex sad. It's wrong, a corruption of beauty, like someone scribbling a crude mustache on the Mona Lisa. "I can't have sweets, so..."

"Oh!" Alex looks relieved, his mouth curling into a smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I mean, I don't even know your name, so I how could I have—"

"John." He finds it slightly easier to breathe now, the agony more bearable through familiarity. "John Rutsey."

"I'm Alex." His smile stirs something besides thirst inside of John. "It's nice to finally meet you."

John dreads what his next words will do to Alex. "I'm sorry, but it's best if we're not friends. It's nothing personal."

Alex's mouth scrunches up like he's going to cry. "Because you're a serial killer, and that's why you only leave the house at night?"

So Alex has been watching him. John isn't sure how to feel about that. "No, I'm a gravedigger."

Alex frowns. "Oh no. Is that worse? Why does that sound worse?"

It doesn't seem as though Alex can be persuaded. He must be frightened, then.

John pushes up the sleeve of his fleece jacket, exposing his unnaturally pale arm. He's already feeling woozy from the weak morning sunlight, but the third floor walkway above provides decent shade from the worst of it. "You want to know why we can't be friends?" John says, offering Alex his arm, wrist up.

Alex studies it like he's never seen an arm before.

"Pulse, dummy. Feel it."

Alex carefully extracts his hands from the warm pockets of his coat and takes John's wrist in his nimble, thin fingers. His touch is burning hot on John's icy skin. He feels calluses on Alex's fingertips. Perhaps he's a guitarist.

Alex searches for a pulse but finds nothing. John's long-dead heart no longer beats. But he can feel the drumming of Alex's vitality through his fingers, and John studies the expression on Alex's face, watches him slide through confusion and bewilderment and fear, then back to confusion.

"How are you doing that?"

"If you have to ask you probably can't handle the answer."

Alex looks at him, and the combination of his touch and scent and gaze is too much, too hot. John pulls his arm away.

"You're something... different, aren't you?"

He should probably just say it. Maybe Alex will think he's crazy and stay away for fear John will make a suit out of his skin.

"Vampire."

Alex's brow furrows, forming a little 'v' between his eyebrows. "No way." His heartbeat quickens—from fear?

"How else would you explain it?"

"My next-door neighbor is a vampire... I have to tell Geddy!" Alex moves toward his own front door, but John's voice stops him.

"No! You can't tell anyone!"

"You told me."

"Because I thought it would scare you away!" Clearly Alex has no sense of self-preservation.

Alex turns back to him, a thoughtful, teasing expression on his face. "Okay, I'll keep your little secret if you become my friend. Which means actually talking to me when I say hello and not slamming the door in my face, and maybe hanging out together once a week."

John's face must not be very encouraging.

"Once a month?"

John cannot believe he's being blackmailed with friendship. "Why are you doing this to me? I could tear your throat out with my teeth. You shouldn't want to be anywhere near me."

"Well, you're cute," Alex says with a shrug, like that explains everything. "Have you seen yourself in the mirror?" He gasps. " _Can_ you?"

John doesn't bother dignifying that with a response.

"And you're probably not a bad guy, right? You're just kind of a hermit 'cause the sunlight will kill you."

"It's more like radiation poisoning," John corrects. "Otherwise I wouldn't be standing here." He shakes his head. Unbelievable. This is his existence now. "It doesn't matter," he says, lowering his voice. "We can't be friends because the smell of your blood drives me fucking crazy. At some point, I will kill you."

Is that a flicker of fear in Alex's eyes? Alex takes a small step back, his heartbeat stuttering, and John's mouth twitches into a smirk.

_Run away._

But Alex says, "Oh... Well, is there anything I can do to make it easier for you? Y'know, so you can be around me without wanting to eat me."

John sighs—he doesn't even need to breathe, just does it purely to show irritation—and squeezes his eyes shut, as though there's a chance Alex might disappear when he opens them. "You can cover up your throat, for starters."

"Good thing it's winter. I can wear scarves without looking like a huge dork."

Dear God.

* * *

The next evening, Alex begins a war waged through olfactory irritation by cooking with garlic. The smell seeps through the walls, carries through the vents. It doesn't affect him like the myths suggest, but John is offended by the possibility that Alex is doing this purely to aggravate him. Or even to draw him out of the apartment and complain about it to Alex's face.

But John did sort of promise Alex he'd be more social, and he can't afford the repercussions if Alex decides to tell anyone that vampires are real.

So John sneaks next door and knocks.

Alex answers the door wearing a black turtleneck, jeans, and an apron that looks like it belongs on a '50s housewife. Ridiculous. The smell of garlic bursts outwards, hits John like a punch in the face.

John scrunches up his nose. "You think you're being clever, don't you?"

Alex smiles, goofy and endearing. "I thought it would get you over here."

"Well, fortunately for you, the garlic myth is bullshit. My heightened sense of smell doesn't appreciate it, but it won't kill me. At least it hasn't yet. Maybe you'll be the one who does it."

Alex steps aside. "Do you wanna come in? I was just making dinner. I'd offer to share, but... y'know."

"Vampires don't need to be invited in either," John says, stepping inside regardless. Alex's apartment is an orgy of bright colors and gaudy patterns. There are fake plants and rainbow-hued paintings, eclectic lamps and wall décor. It looks like something out of a child's coloring book.

"Oh!" Alex laughs. "I didn't know that was a thing. I was just being polite. There's a lot of myths about you guys, huh?"

"I get why they exist. People are afraid of something they don't understand, so they make up rules to feel safer, like they have control. But the whole idea of control is a myth."

"So you don't believe in free will?"

"You think I chose this life?" John says with a bitter chuckle.

Alex hurries into the kitchen to tend to whatever's inside the oven. "How long have you been a vampire?"

John pulls up a seat at the table. "About a year. I got bitten one night when I was smoking outside of a club. I thought the guy was just a psycho, but then I started... changing. The pain was worse than you could ever imagine. I spent two days in the hospital doped up on meds that barely numbed the pain. When I woke up, everything was different. Like my senses were in high-definition. The hospital had a small fridge of blood they used for transfusions, and I thought about raiding it, but the idea of stealing blood that would be used to save someone's life sickened me. So I ended up sneaking out and heading for the nearest forest. I knew drinking animal blood was the only way I could survive and not hurt anyone. And that's how I've been existing ever since. I was doing fine until you moved in."

Alex sets a warm tray of garlic bread on the table, like he knows how helpful it is for John to have that scent overpower the smell of him. "What's so special about me?"

"Your blood. Something about it..." Venom pools in John's mouth at the thought. He swallows it back. "It's irresistible."

"You're resisting it now."

"Do you have to be a smartass?"

Alex grins. "No, I'm usually a dumbass." He sounds like he actually means it. He flits into the kitchen again, and John sighs.

"Why aren't you afraid of me?"

"'Cause you seem like a nice guy."

"I'm a monster."

"Not all monsters do monstrous things. Control's not a myth; it's what separates us from animals. It makes us human."

John wonders about that. Alex, for all his vapid smiles and cheesy lines, might be wiser than he appears. He must believe in what he's saying enough to subdue the instinctive fear he should feel around John. His heart beats calmly despite their morbid conversation.

John takes in the dining room décor while Alex clatters about in the kitchen. The table is a smooth wood, topped with a small vase filled with plastic flowers. There are strange, acid-trip paintings on the wall and model airplanes on a shelf.

Alex brings over a heaping bowl of pasta and a bottle of wine. He sits at the table and shovels in a forkful of noodles. He's still wearing the apron. "So are werewolves real too?" he asks, his mouth full.

"I don't know. I've never met one."

"Do you know any other vampires?"

"Not all vampires know each other, Alex. That's a little racist."

Alex snickers; John exults in the triumph of earning a laugh. "Sorry. Do you sleep in a coffin?"

"I don't sleep."

"Ever?"

"I don't need to."

"Really? Jeez, being a vampire sounds like it sucks."

John groans. "Was that supposed to be a joke?"

"Did it make you laugh?"

John tries to keep his expression stone still, but Alex's eyes are curious and pleading, and he can't resist the way his mouth twitches into a half-smirk.

"Then yes, it was totally a joke." Alex takes another bite, his eyes pointing away like he's thinking about something. "So you don't have any vampire friends... Any human friends?"

John shakes his head.

"What about people you knew when you were human?"

"I couldn't be around them after I turned. So I cut off contact and eventually they stopped trying."

"So you've been alone for a year?"

"Pretty much."

"What do you do instead of hang out with friends?"

"I read, watch TV. Normal stuff."

"Were you always like that?"

John has faint, fuzzy memories of his previous life. He recalls lively nights at bars and clubs, loud rock and the smell of beer. "No. I liked going to parties and playing music and being around people."

Alex chews that over. "Well, maybe you could hang out with me and my friends sometime!"

"Putting aside how dangerous that would be for everyone involved, how would I explain why I never drink or eat around them? Or why my skin is so cold and pale?"

"I dunno, man, you're the vampire. That's never come up before?"

"We're not really social creatures."

"But part of you is still human, right? That's why you decided to only hunt animals. You still think and feel like a human. It's just a bit more complicated now."

How strange and exhilarating that Alex strives to find the humanity inside of him. Would it really be so unsafe to have a friend, to have someone to talk to? Even if Alex's blood beckons and tempts John, there are ways to dampen the effect it has on him. Blur the scent with another. Hide it behind extra layers of clothing. Or even bite the bullet and try exposure therapy.

It's not every day you find someone willing to overlook the worst of you and accept you anyway. John shouldn't waste this opportunity. He may not find another intriguing, caring person like Alex.

"Maybe we'll work our way up to that," John says after a moment. "But for now it's probably more important to be able to stay in a room with you and not think about putting my teeth in your neck."

"Speaking of teeth, do you have fangs?" Alex asks, because of course that's where his brain goes. "I can't really see any, but—"

"They come out when I eat. Otherwise, no. And why is that what you focus on?"

"'Cause you talk big, but if you really wanted to kill me you would have by now. And every second you spend with me gets you more comfortable with how my blood smells."

He's not wrong. John finds it _is_ getting easier to handle Alex's scent, especially when it's cloaked in garlic.

"You're kind of a pain in the ass," John says, good-naturedly.

"Don't you mean a pain in the neck?" Alex grins at him, and John feels a very strange and new hunger.

* * *

Their fledgling friendship continues this way for a while. Alex fills his apartment with smells to combat the scent of his blood, and John shares space with him, learns his secrets. As evidenced by his finesse in the kitchen, Alex is a fantastic cook. Before his newfound interest in aviation led him to pursue a career as a pilot, he dreamed of being a musician—more accurately, a rock star. He works alongside his father as a handyman while he earns his pilot's license.

John wishes they'd met in his past life so he could enjoy Alex's magnificent cooking and consider pushing at the moments where Alex blushes and glances away while he fusses with his long hair. John's no stranger to flirtation, and he's very familiar with men and women alike getting flustered around him. But when Alex does it, blood spreading under his skin, it only arouses John's thirst, his throat flaming with need.

Even though John is careful, makes sure to gorge himself on animal blood before setting foot inside Alex's apartment, he's still drawn to that scent like a magnet. And every indulgent thought comes right back to blood: Alex's cheeks and chest flushed as his orgasm builds, his cock swollen and red, his heart drumming in loud, wet gushes. Just kissing would be too dangerous, being so close to that sweet, heady scent, his lips so soft and pliable.

Best not to even think of it. If Alex is reckless enough to have a crush on a vampire, John shouldn't indulge him. He doesn't handle temptation well. In his past life he would sneak candies and sweets, flirting with danger and putting his health at risk for a taste of something forbidden. He was a stupid, impulsive human and is now a stupid, impulsive vampire.

They're sitting on Alex's couch watching a hockey game on TV. Alex is wearing a turtleneck and a scarf, but John can still smell him, though fainter. John is close enough to feel the thin, warm aura of body heat emanating from him. Briefly, he imagines Alex cuddling close enough to lie his head on his shoulder.

No. No.

"How come your eyes aren't red?" Alex asks during a time-out.

"They were at first. Then it wore off after a month or two. I don't know why."

"Do you have any special powers?"

"Super speed and strength. And higher-developed senses. And we're not as fragile as humans, so we're harder to kill."

Alex frowns. "Do I wanna know how you know that?"

"Probably not."

"So you could be a superhero."

John chuckles darkly. "I'm not hero material."

"You'd rather be a gravedigger and resign yourself to being creepy and stereotypical? C'mon, man, rise above."

"I see what you're doing. You want me to be a superhero so you can be my sidekick."

Alex snorts a laugh, and John finds himself oddly endeared. "No way. I'm not special."

"I beg to differ. Not everyone would invite a vampire into their house and watch TV with him."

"That's not special, that's just... being nice."

"That can be a superpower if you use it right. But it can be a double-edged sword too. People will take advantage of you."

"Is that your way of saying I'm too nice?" Alex says, smiling as he teases John.

"You made friends with a vampire," John says, like he's making a point.

Alex's brilliantly blue eyes widen, lighting up with glee. "You really see me as a friend?"

"Sure, why not?" If it makes him happy...

Alex smiles and turns back to the TV, brimming with excitement. John briefly contemplates reaching for him and laying a hand over Alex's own, but he hates the thought of Alex's reaction to his frigid skin.

During half-time Alex opens a bottle of wine, and his questions get more ridiculous.

"Do vampires really turn into bats?"

"No, that's idiotic."

"Can you see yourself in mirrors?"

"Of course. That's how I knew my red eyes went away. Remember, all those 'rules' were made up by people who wanted a checklist for danger. But it's not always that easy to spot trouble. Lots of crimes are committed by people the victim already knows. Where's their checklist?"

Alex settles into the couch, his right arm squished against John's left. Alex doesn't seem to mind the closeness or the rigidness of John's form. He has the bottle of wine in one hand, toying with the neck in a way that would have excited John in a past life.

"Can you actually eat real food?"

"It wouldn't taste good, but yeah."

"What's it taste like?"

"It's just bland. It doesn't really have much flavor."

Alex considers this, then offers him the bottle. "Can you get fucked up?"

"You think I haven't tried? Can't change your blood alcohol content when you don't have any blood."

"Weed?"

John shakes his head. "Doesn't really affect me. I guess anything that screws with how your body works is a lost cause."

"What about LSD? That affects the brain, right? You got one of those in there?" Alex pokes at John's head.

"I would be afraid to try something like that," John admits. He hopes he doesn't sound like too much of a pansy. "It's bad enough when you're human, but when you're a vampire and you have enhanced strength... I have enough trouble controlling myself when I'm sober."

"Did you try a lot of drugs when you were human?"

"Not really. I stuck with beer and pot. Am I a total square?"

Alex laughs. "No, you're a vampire. That automatically makes you cool."

"Again, most people would probably beg to differ."

"Most people are stupid."

John takes a long look at Alex, who is intoxicated and dangerously near. "Yeah."

Alex misinterprets his gaze, and suddenly he is too close, too hot, his mouth pressed against John's own. It's the shortest kiss John's ever been a part of, but it feels like forever, because in this one second thirst rages in his throat, instinct beats against the walls of his restraint, and his senses explode in a kaleidoscope of colors.

It's over as quickly as it began. Alex breaks away, wearing a pink flush and a cute smile. John shivers under the wave of sensation, lets his pupils shrink. He exhales a wobbly breath. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Alex's shy expression vanishes, and his heart races. "Oh my God, I'm sorry. I should've asked if you were into guys before—fuck, please don't hate me."

"That's not the issue here," John growls. "I could have killed you."

Alex's eyes narrow slightly, like he thinks he can negotiate now that he knows the problem. "But you didn't. You're just gonna write something off 'cause it _could_ kill you? Driving's dangerous, but people still do it every day."

"At least in a car accident you have some semblance of protection. There's nothing standing between my thirst and your blood."

"Except your sense of control," Alex says with far more trust in his eyes than John deserves.

More than anything, John wishes he were human again. He wouldn't hesitate to go back to a life of fragile mortality and carefully measuring his sugar intake. He'd make the trade in a heartbeat if it meant a chance at being with this beautiful idiot.

"Alex..." Even saying his name sends a shiver down John's spine.

Alex glances away, hearing all the shades of rejection in that one word. "I get it. I'm sorry."

John's response lingers on his tongue. He doesn't know if it's worth saying out loud, but Alex looks like he's just witnessed someone kicking a puppy. "It's not your fault. If I was still human we'd be making out right now. With tongue."

That gets a smile out of Alex. It's not his usual full-wattage brilliance, but it's a start. "Really?"

"Yeah, you're super-hot. I'm surprised you're still single."

"All the good men are either straight or vampires."

For a very brief moment, John considers kissing Alex.

He doesn't do it. But he thinks about it.

* * *

They don't talk to each other for the next few days. John listens for Alex's heartbeat, makes sure he's still alive in there, but that's as far as it goes. Alex seems to be deliberately avoiding him, probably embarrassed about the rejection. John doesn't know what to say, how to navigate this sort of thing. Some nights he will hear Alex's heart rate jump up, and it momentarily terrifies him until he listens closer and makes certain it's not an adrenaline response to a threat. It's calmer, a slow elevation, like Alex is exercising or—

 _Oh_.

John doesn't want to listen, except he totally does. He can't enjoy this particular voyeurism in the same ways he would have in his human life, but he can still imagine what Alex might look like or sound like or who he might be thinking about. Part of him wants to be involved in Alex's masturbatory fantasies, but the other, more rational part of him shuts down that train of thought, because therein lies a slippery slope towards danger.

John still catches himself thinking about it, though, but he hates himself for it. That ought to count for something.

* * *

There is a party next door at Alex's apartment. John can hear the muffled bass of loud music, raucous voices and hollers. He might also smell marijuana. Going over there to complain about the noise would put John in the 'cranky old man' category at the ripe age of eternally twenty-two. But he's standing at the front door and knocking before he can stop himself.

The door opens, and Alex answers, looking luscious in a frilly blouse, silk trousers, and high-heeled boots. John finds his thoughts in a snarl as echoes of primitive desires ricochet inside of him.

"Hey! C'mon inside!" Alex says, oblivious to John's lust. "You said you liked parties, right?"

"Some of us have super hearing and smell, you know."

"It's not like you have to wake up early, Dracula. Why don't you just come in and have fun for once in your life?"

The air inside the room smells like beer and pot, and John has already hunted, so the average human's blood shouldn't tempt him too strongly. But Alex is tempting in more ways than one. John knows he should just politely decline and walk away.

Instead, he finds himself inside Alex's apartment, amidst the controlled chaos of stoners and booze hounds.

John quickly finds that he doesn't care for parties anymore. Too loud and bright and irritating to all of his enhanced senses. But he might as well make a go of it, so he finds a beer (when in Rome) and an unoccupied corner and tries to disappear.

Throughout the night, John keeps an eye on Alex. He watches Alex talk with some guy, sees Alex blush and fuss with his hair in silent flirtation. Shit, does Alex like this dude? It's not like John has any real right to be upset if Alex has set his sights on someone else, but John is still male and prone to the stupid, possessive jealousy inherent in all creatures with a Y chromosome.

Just because Alex might have a crush doesn't mean it's reciprocated. This new guy could be straight or not interested in Alex at all. John isn't sure how that's possible—Alex is alluring, inside and out—but this dude could have terrible taste.

John is soon dragged into a drinking contest, which he dominates thoroughly due to his inability to get drunk. The partygoers hold him in high regard, clapping him on the back and saying things like, "You're awesome, man."

It's no fun being the only sober person in the room.

He catches a glimpse of Alex and the mystery man disappearing down the hall, toward the bedroom.

Jealousy burns in John's throat, more painful than thirst.

He tries to convince himself it's nothing, that maybe they're just going in the bedroom to talk. That theory's blown right out of the water a few minutes later when John hears two escalating heartbeats. He can't be certain the thrumming pulses belong to Alex and his anonymous partner, but everyone else at the party is sluggish, subdued by weed and alcohol. It has to be them.

John's teeth clench hard enough to pulverize granite. Jealousy rises up in his chest like a tidal wave. It takes everything he has not to rush in there and steal Alex away.

The sudden spike of fury puzzles him. What did John think Alex would do after being rejected? Of course he'd go after someone else. Alex deserves to be happy, even if that means John's not a part of that equation. John shouldn't even be considered. Too dangerous.

That doesn't stop him from wanting.

It's over soon enough, and eventually the door opens and the stranger leaves, looking flushed and flustered. John eyes him as he tries to step back into the groove of the party. Alex is presumably still in the bedroom, so John casually slips down the hall.

He knocks twice on the door before twisting the knob and letting himself inside. The bed is rumpled as though it's been recently used. Alex fusses with his blouse in the mirror. He sees John in the reflection. "Another myth busted," he says with a smile, turning to face him.

John decides to cut to the chase. He shuts the door behind him and says, "Did you fuck that guy?"

"No, Dad, we were just studying," Alex snorts with a roll of his eyes. A closer examination of John's expression coaxes Alex to provide a less flippant answer. "Are you jealous?"

"No."

"Good, 'cause I clearly remember you being all"—Alex affects a mocking voice—"'no, it's too dangerous, I could kill you, blah, blah, blah.'"

John scowls. "I don't sound like that."

"And it's not like you could prove anything happened anyway—"

"I can hear heartbeats," John says, purely to see the response on Alex's face.

As expected, Alex flushes pink, staring at John with a bewildered expression.

"And I can smell him on you."

Alex looks humiliated and stunned, his face a shade of red John's never seen before. Thirst scorches John's throat and fills his mouth with venom.

"Stupid fucking vampires." Alex turns away and paces, as though putting physical distance between himself and the insinuation. "Why are you even—No, no, wait. Y'know what? This is on you. If you're gonna be creepy and invade my privacy, you don't get to judge what I do."

"I'm not—I just want—"

Alex's arms are crossed over his chest, but they drop to his sides as John moves closer.

"Just... hold still," John says, quiet, and Alex obeys, gazing at his mouth like he knows exactly what John's steeling himself for. His heartbeat quickens in anticipation.

Alex's mouth is warm and pliable, and John struggles against the desire for his blood. Alex doesn't push, barely even breathes, just lets John figure out how much of this he can handle. John licks his way between Alex's slightly parted lips, and Alex hums a surprised noise.

John breaks away, slow and careful. "That wasn't as bad as I imagined it would be."

"What every guy wants to hear after a kiss."

"Shut up," John chuckles, still lingering close enough to feel the heat of Alex's sweet breath on his face. "I think... I want to be with you more than I want your blood."

"Wow, Mr. Romance."

John glides his thumb over Alex's bottom lip, making him shiver. His mouth opens easily, and John tries again, capturing Alex's lips in a tender kiss. Alex grasps the edges of John's shirt in his fingers and tugs him closer. He's learning to take things slowly, like he knows any sudden movement could be too much. The throb of his pulse is an excited gallop, and John wonders if there's a bit of fear there.

"Who was that guy?" John asks when they break apart again, feeling breathless. "Do you—I mean, is it serious?"

Alex breathes a tiny laugh, his nose crinkling as his mouth turns up. "No way. I was just having fun."

"Does he know that?"

"Are you afraid he might kick your ass? I'm pretty sure you could take him."

"I wanna do this right. No loose ends." John can't understand why asking someone to date him is so stressful, even when he has cheat codes like hearing heartbeats and having the certainty that Alex is into him.

"It was just a one-time thing," Alex says. "I'm kind of a slut."

Will John be able to satisfy Alex? His own sexual urges are long gone (erections need blood, which John's body no longer produces), and John isn't sure he'll be able to resist his thirst when Alex is flushed and aroused beneath him.

Alex mistakes this moment of worry as condemnation. He glances away. "Is that a problem?"

"No, no, it's just... sex might not be a possibility for us."

Alex's mouth curls in disappointment, but John knows he's always thinking of ways to subvert whatever boundaries stand in their way. "We can figure something out. You didn't think you'd ever kiss me, but here we are."

John has never met anyone with an outlook as bright as their smile. Alex is a gift.

Testing himself once more, John steals another kiss.

* * *

Dating was awkward enough when John was human, but now that's he's a vampire the difficulty curve has ramped up considerably. John takes care of hunting before he visits Alex, and Alex keeps his throat concealed with scarves and his scent masked under the aromas of food John would have once devoured.

Their dates are spent on Alex's couch watching hockey games and fighting the human urge to make out furiously. Alex doesn't seem to mind the lack of "real" dates, but John wishes he could enjoy a fancy restaurant with him or take him to a movie or even an actual hockey game. But John can't imagine being around that many wet heartbeats in one enclosed space, the smell of human blood multiplied ten, maybe a hundred-fold.

Occasionally, after John has retreated to his own abode, he will hear Alex's heartbeat race with the familiar pulse of arousal and climax, and he imagines what it might be like to touch him that way.

* * *

Kissing is easier now, though the thirst still aches in John's throat. But he doesn't have to break away as often, and he can handle Alex laying hands on him for longer periods of time. Alex is very physical, oftentimes shifting his hips against the closest part of John's body, in search of friction. The contact excites a new, foreign part of John's being, perhaps a remnant of his human self.

Tonight they're on the couch, mouths latched hungrily while Alex's hands clutch John's hair. John growls a low rumble in his chest, and Alex trails a hand down to where John would have once been embarrassingly hard.

"I can't," John sighs into Alex's mouth.

"Oh." Alex pulls his hand away, then the rest of himself. "Sorry."

Realizing Alex has misunderstood him, John says, "No, I mean it's physically impossible. No blood, remember?"

He half-heartedly expects Alex to laugh or make a face that says he's seriously reconsidering this arrangement. But Alex has continuously amazed him, so John's not surprised when Alex asks, "Oh... So you can't have orgasms at all?"

"If there's a way, I haven't discovered it yet."

"Why would anyone want to be a vampire?" Alex says, incredulous.

John hears himself laugh a quiet sound. "I certainly didn't."

Alex sighs and takes John's cold marble hand in his own warm ones. John links their fingers together, his thumb rubbing over the pulse point in Alex's wrist. He shivers, imagines lifting that wrist to his mouth and—

No.

"It doesn't seem fair," Alex murmurs. "There's so much you can't experience anymore. If you can't get off, then I won't either."

"Don't be ridiculous. You're human. You have human urges."

"Can you not make it sound like a bad thing?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean it that way." John sometimes forgets how sensitive Alex is. "Maybe we can—I just don't know if I can be that close to you when your blood is pumping so fast and hot." John licks his lips, thirst flaring in his throat. "I can hear your heartbeat when you're—It drives me fucking insane, and I wanna touch you so bad."

Alex squirms like just talking about this is turning him on. "Maybe you could watch me? Might as well, since you're listening to my heartbeat anyway. Creep." The corner of his mouth tugs into a smirk.

During John's entire human lifespan, no one ever propositioned a voyeuristic jerk-off session. So of course the offer would come around when he's a vampire and can't properly enjoy it.

"Have you ever done that before?"

"Not for an audience. But there's a first time for everything, right?"

John considers this from every angle, mapping out escape routes in case he can't handle such close proximity to Alex's arousal. He's certainly quick enough to put considerable distance between them if need be. But would he choose to escape?

"We don't have to," Alex says, interpreting John's hesitation as rejection. "We can wait if you don't think you can—"

"I want to."

So that's how John ends up in Alex's bedroom watching him masturbate. Alex is splayed across the bed while John sits rigidly in a chair on the other side of the room, gripping the wooden arms with iron hands. Alex strokes and sighs, his heart rate increasing as he thrusts into his fist. His skin is hot and flushed, his dark pink cock engorged and leaking with precum at the tip. John shivers again, draws in a dizzying breath of blood and sex, and his hands grip the fragile wicker armrests.

Alex hears the crunch and sits up, his perfectly-normal fear response kicking in. John notices the added spike of adrenaline in his heartbeat. "You okay? Want me to stop?"

"Keep going," John all but growls.

Alex obeys and resumes the slow slide of his fist. John can see all of him now, the pink glow on Alex's cheeks before his head tips back. He gasps soft, breathy sounds, and John can't tell if Alex is holding back in order to keep him comfortable.

Alex's heartbeat races. He's close. Fire and need clash in John's throat. His hands grip the armrests to hold himself in place. The wood crumbles under his touch into palmfuls of splintered pulp.

"Keep going," John says again, anticipating that Alex might hesitate.

Alex pauses for a second until John's voice coaxes him to continue. His heel slides over the carpet, and two slick fingers press inside of him, moving up and down and up again, then his thumb rubs over the tight skin of his balls, and he's shaking and coming with a helpless cry.

John groans like he's dying as his throat and body burn. He reminds himself that the worst of it is over, that Alex's heartbeat will soon slow, but it's hard to focus when the entire room is filled with tempting smells and sights and sounds. He feels like a rabid dog lunging against a chain.

Alex looks at him, warmth and love and trust swimming in his eyes. "You okay?" he asks again.

John wipes away the venom dripping from the edges of his mouth and breathes, "Yeah."

* * *

Alex sticks to self-service for a while, like he knows exactly how difficult watching him was for John. Instead, John pushes at his resolve by lying alongside Alex in bed, both of them fully clothed and chaste, with his nose dangerously close to Alex's throat. It's easier this way, though Alex's human instincts occasionally urge him to throw a leg over John's hip, or scoot in closer and grind into his thigh. John can take it, but he can't afford to get Alex too worked up.

They're lying in bed one night, John carefully tracing a finger down the line of Alex's throat. Alex watches him with curiosity, a warm hand laid against John's marble skin.

"Do you think... maybe you could drink from me? Just a little bit?"

John almost gasps, stunned by the offer. Venom pools in his mouth at the brief thought of tasting Alex's sweet blood. "I'm not the right person to explore this fetish with."

Alex huffs a laugh. "No, idiot. I'm trying to help make this easier for you. I thought maybe if you had a taste, it might take the edge off when we're... _together_."

"There's no way I could control myself if I drank from you when your heart was pumping that fast." John imagines it and shudders, a flash of Alex still, white, and cold dashing across his mind's eye.

"Obviously not. We'd do it like this. Calm. Normal heartbeat. Just a second's worth."

"Alex..."

"You're stronger than you think," Alex says, recognizing the despair in John's voice. "You've come this far. I trust you."

"You shouldn't."

Alex smiles. "Hasn't killed me yet." He slides a hand along John's arm. Alex's touch is fire on his skin, and John wants to burn.

"You've eaten, right?" Alex asks, reaching over John to grab something on the night table.

"Always before I visit you."

Alex draws his arm back to reveal a pocket knife in his hand. John briefly wonders why he has it—protection, perhaps?—before Alex pops the blade up and presses it to his index finger. His hand shakes almost imperceptibly (John knows he's never done this before) as he creates a gentle, shallow slice. His heartbeat quickens at the sight of his own blood.

The smell is like a gut punch, dark red oozing from the small slit in Alex's finger. A low growl slides through John's clenched teeth. He doesn't dare breathe, just wrestles the thirst into an internal cage long enough to get a taste.

His head explodes with sound and color and sensation. It would cut his legs out from underneath him if he were standing. Euphoria hits him in a tidal wave, buzzing in his brain and his senses like the world's best acid trip. John doesn't know how to fight it, doesn't know if he wants to. Just a tiny taste of Alex's blood sets off firecrackers in John's mouth and head and _everywhere_. John briefly wonders if it's possible to feel so good you actually die.

He doesn't know how long it lasts—minutes, maybe just seconds—but when it ebbs John's slumped on the bed, breathing into the pillow as his body comes back to earth.

"What was it like?" Alex wonders, tasting it for himself—or possibly preventing any stray globules from dripping onto the bedsheets.

"I don't know how to explain it so you'd understand... Imagine having an orgasm and an amazing drug trip at the same time."

"Oh, that _does_ sound nice." Alex grins, looking ecstatic that he's found a way to give John some form of sexual gratification. He slides off of the bed and hurries into the bathroom to bandage his finger. "And, surprise, surprise, you didn't kill me."

While Alex isn't looking, John picks up the knife and licks the small smear of blood off the blade.

* * *

It gets to be normal, lapping at the small slice on Alex's finger, and the transcendent, weightless euphoria that sparkles and pops throughout John when Alex's blood hits his tongue. He doesn't drink more than just a drop or two, but it's enough to take the edge off so he can lie beside Alex and watch his hand slide over his cock.

If John were still human, he wouldn't be content just watching the perfect shape of Alex's mouth as he swears and sighs his way to orgasm, or the way his hand squeezes at the base of his dick, or the pink flush of his chest and cheeks. But there is a special kind of eroticism in what they have here, and sometimes it makes John shiver, like a finger tracing down his spine.

* * *

"I wanna try a little more," John says, watching the red sliver spread on the tip of Alex's index finger. "I think I can handle it."

"How much more?"

"Three seconds."

Alex's brow furrows.

"I couldn't possibly drink all of you in three seconds from that tiny little opening," John says. "Maybe a major artery..."

"Go on," Alex coaxes, so John does.

It's stronger this time, just as John imagined it would be. He can taste colors and smell sounds and the world seems to unravel like a ball of yarn. Alex wraps his finger when John's finished, and John waits for him to return, his own spirit wrapped in the lingering tongues of friendly flames.

While John watches Alex squirm and roll his hips into his fist, a sluggish feeling overcomes him, and John recalls a vague memory of being in a half-awake stupor on cold medicine. His long-dead lungs tingle and itch, something pulling taut inside of him like a tether. He feels the faint sensation of bile rising in his throat, but there's nothing there but sense memory.

It's enough to make him forget about the temptation of Alex's blood, and he murmurs, "I want to touch you," carefully laying an icy hand over Alex's own.

Alex stops his strokes and flicks his gaze up to John. His lips are parted and slick with the wet heat of his breath, and John captures them beneath his own. The momentary high has made him cocksure, or at least sure that he wants to touch Alex's cock. He pinches the tip with his thumb and forefinger, as delicately as he can, and Alex sucks in a breath through his teeth. His hips jerk into John's touch then away from it.

"Cold."

"Sorry." John follows the bulging vein on the underside of Alex's dick with his fingernail, curious about every part of him. He wraps his fingers around his cock and feels the steady pulse of blood beneath the thin skin.

Alex makes a sound in his throat that John hasn't heard before.

At the forefront of John's mind is the heady, almost sleepy daze he feels, like a fog obscuring the thirst from his senses, enabling him to touch Alex this way and not focus on the throb of his heartbeat. So he explores with his fingers, trying out different pressures and intonations of touch, learning what makes Alex grunt and push forward and lose his breath.

John teases at his hole, easing in a slippery fingertip, and Alex moans. His hips sway into John's hand, and John keeps stroking and rubbing there until Alex shakes apart and clutches onto him like he'll drown if he doesn't cling to something.

* * *

Animal blood tastes like muddy water once you've drank the sweetest nectar of all.

* * *

After they finish, Alex will pull John's head over to his chest, fingers splaying through his hair, and John will listen to the slowing beat of Alex's heart, his nerves and neurons still dancing on the sluggish high of Alex's blood, and in these few moments John feels human again.

* * *

The more John drinks the easier it gets. He has expanded his human blood consumption to five seconds now, and the resulting ecstasy allows him to kneel at the foot of the bed and take Alex into his mouth. He's not an expert—he never had the opportunity in his human life—but Alex trusts him implicitly and lets him learn. John can feel Alex's heartbeat through his cock, pulsing hot and alive in his mouth, but his head is dizzy and cloudy and he feels too _good_ to be thirsty.

John hums around the plummy head of Alex's cock, tasting him when he crests.

It tastes nothing like his blood.

* * *

"You okay?" Alex asks one night, staring at John under the harsh light outside his front door. "You look... like a vampire."

John has noticed the constant, faraway unease in his body lately, as though he's been under constant exposure to sunlight. But he hasn't changed his outdoor routine. Maybe he hunts a little less frequently than usual, but a few mouthfuls of Alex's blood a week must be equal to at least one or two full deer, if its potency is any indication. Perhaps the new addition to his diet is causing his nausea. Human blood might be too rich for a vampire who's been living a "vegetarian" lifestyle for so long.

John steps inside and checks his appearance in the living room mirror. His skin is paler, the bruise-like shadows under his eyes darker now. He might have lost some weight, but it's not like he's in the habit of checking his reflection every day.

"Have you been hunting?" Alex says, looking him over as he interlocks his warm fingers with John's cold ones.

"Not as often as I used to. I'm fine. I'm just getting used to drinking from a human. It's... rich. Like drinking wine if you've only ever had grape juice."

Alex gives him an amused smirk. "My blood gets you drunk?"

"Yeah, that's kinda how it feels. It's like being drunk and high at the same time."

"So vampires _can_ get fucked up."

"We just can't buy our vices in a six-pack at a gas station."

They fall into bed, as they always do, and John drinks from him a little longer, testing his limits. Alex tangles his legs with John's own, and John works his fingers inside of him, kissing Alex between breaths. When Alex is sweaty and sated, John kisses the inside of his thighs, the peaks of his hip bones, swirls his tongue over dark pink nipples.

"You used to have friends," John murmurs over Alex's skin. As much as he cherishes his time with Alex, it doesn't seem fair to monopolize it. "Why don't you see them anymore?"

Alex settles his fingers in John's hair. "'Cause I have more fun with you."

"You can have different kinds of fun with humans, y'know. It can't be healthy spending all your time with a vampire."

"It can't be healthy spending all your time with a human," Alex volleys back, his hands skimming over John's shoulders and down his spine.

"I'll just head down to the rec center for the weekly vampire meet-up." John rests his cheek on Alex's chest, listening to the thud of his heart. "I wanna be able to give things to you, not take them away."

Alex snorts. "Don't be so melodramatic. You're fine. I've never had a boyfriend before. Or a girlfriend or anything like this. Just let me enjoy it."

Alex's hands draw up to John's hair again, and John can't think of a reason to deny him anything.

* * *

Alex lets himself into John's apartment two nights later. John doesn't much care about home security—when you're a near-invincible vampire few things scare you—and Alex has visited enough times to feel at ease just walking through the front door like he belongs there.

John lies on the bed, idle and lethargic. He feels ill, hollow, and sort of shaky. His vision is slightly hazy, his senses off-kilter, and staying in one spot seems like a good idea.

Alex finds him there after switching on a lamp in the bedroom. He gasps a frightened half-yell at the sight of John.

"Are you okay? When was the last time you ate?"

John musters up the energy to shrug. "The last time we..."

"That doesn't count," Alex huffs, exasperated, but John hears the tinge of panic in his voice. Alex hurries to John's side and sits in the empty space on the mattress. "Are you on some kind of hunger strike?" His mouth twitches weakly, like he's trying to lift John's spirits with a joke.

"I don't have the energy to move," John finally says. "I feel like I'm gonna throw up."

"Can vampires do that?"

"No." He's terrified to admit that he doesn't know what's happening to him. His first week as a vampire was spent resisting his thirst and refusing to even drink animal blood. He felt woozy and lightheaded and his throat burned, but this is different. There's a sluggish haze spreading through him, tingles of numbness at the tips of his toes and fingers.

"You're probably just thirsty," Alex says. He grips John's leg and tries to pull him off the bed, but John's stone body doesn't budge. "C'mon, just tell me where you hunt, and I'll drive you there."

"I can't." John turns his head to look at Alex. "Give me a taste. It'll get me up and moving, at least."

Alex stares at his own bandaged fingertip and sighs. "You were fine 'til you started drinking from me. It's like a drug."

John never experimented with anything stronger than pot, but he imagines this is what it feels like to come down from a major high. The urge to vomit tickles in the pit of his empty stomach. He thinks he's slowly melting from the inside out.

"Alex," John begs, because he knows Alex can't resist him when he does. "Please. Just a little bit. Then I'll go. And you can drive me there to make sure I actually do it."

Alex's brow scrunches up. John wants to smooth away the creases on his forehead but doesn't have the energy. Alex sighs. "Okay. But this is the last time. I don't care if drinking my blood means you can touch me. I'd rather have you healthy and celibate than feeling like this."

He peels the cotton gauze off his finger and cracks open the scab. The bright, sudden swell of blood on his fingertip saturates every particle of the air around them. John finds himself sitting up, latching his mouth to Alex's finger. It's sweet and succulent, but it's not enough. He'll never satisfy his thirst sucking out of a sliver.

"Okay, that's enough," Alex says, slowly pulling his hand away.

But then suddenly John's yanking Alex's arm back to his mouth and there's teeth and the gentle rip of fragile skin and Alex yelps, and John's tingling like he's pressed his lips against a live wire. Blood flows hot and wet and fast over his tongue, and he can't get enough of it. He hasn't had a drink in days, and he gulps down blood like a man dying of thirst in the desert.

Alex whimpers a fearful, pained noise and weakly tugs at John's shirt with his free hand. "Hey, c'mon, enough..." But the venom from the bite has crawled through Alex's veins, turning every movement into a struggle akin to swimming through morphine-infused molasses.

Part of John knows he should stop, knows humans can only lose a certain amount of blood at once before they just can't anymore, but Alex tastes so fucking good. Every greedy slurp makes the world go darker, makes his stomach and chest feel tight and loose all at once, but John is a slave to instinct now, even as he falls deeper and deeper into the yawning chasm of blackness.

Alex stops moving, the slow paralysis taking hold, and John can't breathe or even move, and his brain is melting out of his head, and he focuses on the faint spurt of Alex's pulse until it stops.

John trembles, twitching shocks of pain and ecstasy going off like fireworks under his skin. Alex is still and cold, paler than he's ever been, and there's teeth marks in his arm—

Oh no.

No.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Another jolt hits him—panic, this time—and all he can think to do is bite Alex again, try to seal off the wounds with venom, but he already knows there isn't enough blood in Alex's limp body to facilitate a transformation. If John had controlled his thirst, maybe changing Alex into a vampire would have been an option, but now...

A horrible, hollow fear cores through John.

_You killed him._

No, this has to be a nightmare or a hallucination. He can't actually be here with Alex's lifeless body in his arms and blood on his lips. John was getting better, wasn't he? He was learning to control his bloodthirst and loathsome instincts. He was so close...

No, John wasn't built for this. God, why did Alex trust him so much? John thought he'd proven himself too impulsive for anyone to have such unshakable faith in him. It breaks his long-dead heart that Alex made him prove it and was ultimately punished for it.

A new pain rises up inside of John, a numbness coursing through him, and he thinks it's a physical manifestation of his loss until the pain comes like knives shredding him from the inside out. John has died before, and it felt a lot like this. Is he dying? He hopes so. Death would feel better than this, and he wouldn't have to face an eternity without Alex.

Alex...

John slumps over Alex's body, crying phantom tears, and he feels like he's being pulled to the bottom of the ocean, the pain of whatever's happening to him dulling under the calming, black pool. Everything is fading, going grey at the edges, and John embraces the dark, hoping to see Alex on the other side.

* * *

 " _Sinful and forbidden pleasures are like poisoned bread. They may satisfy appetite for the moment, but there is death in them at the end."_ ~ Tyron Edwards


End file.
